Monthly Archives: February 2013

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So Very Worth It

In a few weeks, I’ll celebrate the third anniversary with the city I love.

It’s seen me through for better and for worst. It’s pushed me out of a love I hoped would last and into days I never wanted to end. I’ve seen it transform itself and me with it’s ever-changing, ever-beautiful ways. It’s still like living in a dream, but it’s more like living in an interesting world I created. That I achieved. That against the odds, I found and made for myself. The streets don’t scare me anymore but they do entice me. I don’t feel like I’ve finished all the things I came here to do but I know I’ve done quite a lot in not a lot of time.

I flow better with the rhythm and the speed of the people and with buildings that surround and challenge me. I’ve given into wearing black, yet I still let my colorful intentions radiate. I understand and have experienced the harshness of the land and the field I’ve decided to pursue. It hasn’t always been easy, not at all, but it has always been a journey, with every step and certainly every stumble. Not matter if there was something — or someone — to break my fall or… nothing at all.

I’ve dated and fallen in love with the natives here — men I used to refer to as businessmen, but now adequately equate as investment bankers or financial traders, even though it all seems like all business (and all cold-hearted) to me. I’ve fished on all the dating sites that I can and I’ve met a few good ones among the constant crash of terrible matches. I’ve tried my hand at the bars on the east and those on the west, but I’ve settled into neighborhoods that fit me better than the rest.

I’ve learned to judge in ways I’m not proud of, but I’ve also developed opinions that I now stand firmly beside. I’ve left the island only to feel in my bones that I would never feel as much at home as I do in this strange place. I’ve missed trains and opportunities, passed by strangers who could have used my help and given too much of myself to someone who didn’t really need it. Or want it. I’ve been embarrassed of ignorance in a city so full of brilliance, and I’ve savored my Southern roots for all that they’re worth and all that they’ve made me. I’ve missed people I’ve yet to meet and hungered for days I have never lived but I’ve also finally learned to settle into the skin and the place I’m in.

I never knew for certain that I would make it here in New York, an urban jungle that determines making it anywhere else in the big old world with all it’s big old cities. I didn’t doubt my abilities or my talents or my humble, caring attitude that I still believe gets me further than anything else. It’s even more powerful than the sound of my heels clicking miles before I appear. I wondered if I would become anther listless writer, another hopeless dreamer who lost her way somewhere between New Jersey and Queens. I didn’t know if I could convince someone to give me a chance or if I could even survive on the minimal salary that I knew would come with my very first big girl job.

But I did believe I should try.

Even if failed to a disappointing demise and had to tuck my Tigar tail and catch a flight to the bittersweet Carolina, I knew I had to give it a go. Remorse I could live with, regret I could not.

It all worked out– as I imagined it possibly would. And I worked myself out in the process. It’s easy and probably sensible to argue that these changes and these growths were mainly due to my age — so much happens in the years between when you’re old enough to buy a beer and when you face the big three zero. But I have to give credit to the city that made me brave. That made me a fighter. That knocked me down and encouraged me to never stay sitting for too long.

I often wonder if I’ll stay here in this island forever– if New York is where I’ll want to raise my children, should I be lucky enough to have them. I think about the days when I’ll move in with a man into a (nicer!) apartment and when I make more money to do more things, and yes, give me more responsibility and accountability. Though I feel like so much has happened on these avenues and in those changing wintry or steamy seasons, if I’m really honest, it’s really just begun.

And the beauty of not knowing my fate with my sweet and seductive city is just like not knowing my fate with anything else: it’s a little scary. But it makes me hopeful more than it makes me anxious. If so much good has happened and I’ve been able to move past the bad to find the parts that I can learn from — surely what’s ahead of me is even better than what’s behind me. Perhaps the heartaches and headaches and growing pains are far from over — but I do think that a love, an apartment, a moment with my wonderful Manhattan are silver linings I’ll one day be able to experience.

No, moving to New York has never been completely, totally perfect. Not my life here, not the dating adventures I always blog about. But you know what? That’s what makes it so amazing. That’s what makes it — and will always make it — so very worth it.

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This Baby Loves Her Back

My boobs were bigger when I was 10 years old than they are now.

Something happened the summer before I started middle school — my mom let me shave my legs for the first time (at our lake house in a bikini, terrified of cutting myself), acne snickered at my skin and well, every top I owned suddenly was a bit too small. And though I had always waited quite impatiently to look like a real woman, when those curves arrived sooner than expected, I wished they would go away.

Having an inappropriate body for a young girl brought all sorts of things — unwanted attention from older guys, untrue rumors at school because surely if my body looked sexual, I must also be sexual in nature. The truth was I found myself wearing a 32 D-cup and sincerely had no idea what to do with such a massive and speedy physical transition. I hadn’t “french kissed” a boy and yet I had a chest to insinuate I was ready for quite more than that.

Sixth grade was really the first year I started cursing my own body. I was too heavy on top. My stomach pooched more than the other girls in gym class. I couldn’t run as fast because my breasts were too heavy. My skin was speckled. My teeth weren’t perfect and I didn’t want braces. The other girls were prettier. They were skinnier. They didn’t have awfully huge knockers that I hated so badly I kept them only in sports bras for years until one of my friends demanded I wear a proper underwire freshman year of college.

Throughout my many growing body pains, my pants and dress size fluctuated too. Following a stressful period my sophomore year of high school, I gained close to 20 pounds and kept it on until I graduated. To compensate for my insecurity, I covered up the extra weight in loose-fitting clothing and cardigans to cover what I saw as embarrassing rolls in every place. When I went off to college, I not only had to walk — uphill, literally in snow — everywhere I went, but I discovered a newfound love for running, too. The thing that triggered my actual shedding of the baggage around my midsection and thighs wasn’t anything healthy though — it was the depression I fell into following that terribly awful thing that happened on my 18th birthday.

And then I was thrown into a dark world of strange feelings about my body.

Not only was it slowly shrinking due to quite a loss of appetite and desire for much of anything, I also felt foreign to my own limbs. And maybe more devastating to me, that power I had always felt sexually since I lost my virginity to my high school sweetheart… faded. I didn’t want to be naked and I really didn’t want to be touched — unless it was a touch of love. And love was pretty much void for most of college. I didn’t know how to get back all of that fire that got me through everything, so I took the advice of someone special and I faked it until I made it. I led one of the sections at the student newspaper, I volunteered, I became an orientation leader and I went on dates with men I knew I’d never actually care about. And inside, I felt like the ugliest person alive. Like this body I had, was damaged or broken, that it wasn’t worthy of what I once thought it was.

But after lots of counseling and even more determination to pull myself back up, I found myself interning in New York and starting to finally feel beautiful. Or maybe glamorous is the right word. My bra was not only significantly emptier but my waist and heavy heart was too, making me feel unstoppable and vibrant in a city that mostly defines itself by beauty. Or at least being surrounded by it, that is. But when you spend your time trying to be social and liberated and basking in the light of a bright new chapter, you also start drinking more. When I returned to finish my last year-and-a-half of college, I found myself staring at yet another number on the scale I didn’t like and pulling out those hefty bras I thought I could throw away.

And so this pattern continued pretty frequently over the next five years… until last summer.

Mr. Possibility was still in my life — in and out — and though he did help me get over my intense hatred of my acne (“Those are only your freckles!“), he didn’t do much for my body image. His love (and constant praise) of those 5’10-and-up skinny, long-legged gals made my shorter, curvier, womanly frame feel unworthy. Unappreciated. Not good enough for any successful man in New York. While almost every guy I’ve dated (Dr. Heart included) has adored the little extra I’ve always packed, I’ve never felt quite comfortable having them like it so much. If it jiggled or wiggled or moved at all, surely it’s not an attractive sight for a man to see.

But in the sweltering heat of the July sun, after a knock-down, drag-out fight that ultimately kicked Mr. P out of my life for mostly good with the shocking slam of a taxi cab door — I made a decision to be beautiful.

Scratch that — to feel beautiful. To embrace my beauty. To accept it. To know it’s there.

And as much as falling in love with myself is more than my mirror’s reflection, a positive, accurate body image is part of the courting, too. I got back into running after a long-delayed absence, I starting drowning myself in water, I went on Accutane to get rid of 15-year-old acne and I stopped comparing myself to every girl that I saw.

That last one was the doozy.

I had been measuring myself up against every pretty lady I passed, wondering if she had all the things I wanted because her thighs were the size I wished mine were. Or her skin had never seen a bad day. Or her teeth were aligned so symmetrically it blinded me. Instead of seeing perfection in everyone around me — and ignoring my own shine — I started reminding myself about how superbly awesome my body is.

And maybe more importantly — how incredible it will be one day.

Now, it can run 6 miles and not be out of breath. It can make it through an intense Pilates session and hit the pavement minutes later. It can endure the brutality of the city and stay in step with the fastest New Yorkers who push by. It’s hand can comfort a puppy who has a nightmare in the middle of the night. It can hold the head of a friend in need or embrace a celebratory moment. It can rock out a black mini and a red dress, and then look equally good — and damn it, curvy as hell — in tight workout pants and t-shirt an hour later. It can curl and go straight, it can go natural or pageant-faced and be just as pretty. Even if the beauty is in the fruitful flaws.

But one day — it’ll even be better. It’ll produce life. It’ll carry a baby. It’ll give birth to that baby. It’ll grow and stretch and sag and wrinkle and change and with all of that, it’ll just get more astounding. It’ll get lines and have scars that hold meaning — ones that were caused by things I survived. Or memories that were worth every bit of pain. It’ll be touched by a man worthy enough to be loved by me for the rest of his life. It’ll be held delicately because it’s precious and one of a kind.

And it’s mine.

So why not love it? Why not be madly in love with it? Big boobs, freckled cheeks, a baby-got’s-back rear end, frizzy hair in all-weather and everything in between belongs to me. And to me, all of it is beautiful.

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I Don’t Really Miss You

I don’t miss you. Not really.

I think  that I miss you because I’m terrified — petrified even — of never meeting another you. Actually, I don’t honestly want to meet someone like you– I want to meet someone better. A man who can love me without doubt, someone who knows he wants to be with me and who doesn’t make excuses why it’s not the right time or he’s not in the right place. I want someone who is gloriously happy like I am, not shamefully sad and despairingly bitter. I felt pieces of your heart because I dug them out, not because they were readily available. Those pieces were terribly tender and dark.

But I imagined them rose colored.

I prayed for them to change, to let me hold them. Just for a minute. I prayed for you to love me unconditionally as I felt for you. I wanted you to love and want me — to not be able to live without me so much that it ached. So much that you ached like me. That you swallowed goblets of tears almost every single day for the past two and a half years since the day we met. Since the day I fell for you… Stupidly. Crazily. Instantly.

That’s what I miss, I think.

Not you exactly — but the me who fell for you back then. It was a me that believed people, men could really change. It was a me that had patience beyond measure, hope against any prevailing odd. It was a me who put up with more than she should to love the boy she hoped could.

Could love her. Could be the one. Could be different.

Now, I’m harder. My shell is tougher and it takes quite the effort to break through. My guard is up, along with my expectations and what I’m willing to accept and what I’m not afraid to walk away from. In some odd twist of my personal dynamic, ever since you, I’ve hungered to be single more than I’ve desired to be with someone.

Because the next someone, whoever he is, wherever he may be– has to be the final someone. After you, my heart isn’t willing to risk again. It’s not bursting and vibrant enough to take a chance on being shattered or dissolving into a darker shade of red. It’s finished being the forgiving gal at home and it’s ready to be completely swooned.

No, I don’t miss you. Not really.

I don’t miss the longing and the pain you brought to my life — though I’m sure, it was never intentional, my dear. I don’t miss staring into eyes that never could look back with sincerity. I don’t miss their hollow depths that I searched for any void to tell my otherwise. I don’t miss the back and fourth, and the desperate feeling of being disposable and not worth fighting for.  I don’t miss feeling like you were always so far away, even when you were lying naked next to me. I don’t miss feeling like I had to always be the positive one, the woman who was always ready and there to please, not the girl who needed something in return. I don’t miss the endless curiosity for change and the sunken feeling that nothing would.

Not really, anyway.

But I do miss being able to love so freely and with such naivety. I miss the me that still believed. The me who was beautiful in all the ways that only a girl fresh to the city, fresh to reveries about a man whose possibilities were actually illusions. I miss the me who used to love you. The me who held onto silly, frivolousness hope.

And now, the only hope left is that I’m able to love someone else a little more. I don’t miss you, not really. But I miss the me before you. Really, I really do.

Got a love story? Submit your Falling in Love on Fridays blogs here. 

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Falling in Love on Fridays: The Best Decision I’ve Ever Made

This week’s Falling in Love on Fridays comes from one of my very best, dearest friends, Renee. We became friends 7 years ago while in high school and she quickly named herself (or maybe I named her?) my protege. But in the years that have passed, she’s definitely not in my shadows — she shines brightly all on her own. In fact, she’s rather radiant — both inside and out. She’s not only a talented writer, an insatiable explorer and truly a lover at heart (though she’s stubborn about it) — but she’s a courageous birth mom and incredible friend, too. She writes letters to her son Liam on her blog Letters to Little Man. Her posts almost always make me cry (that’s a lie, they always do) and the photos of her adorable tot are just… addicting. I feel lucky to call her one of my favorites and thankful she’s there to tame my SOSes (there are often a lot of them!). Her story below is about meeting and falling for her wonderful boyfriend that I’ve yet to meet, but have only heard great things about. It’s an important reminder to trust the process of love… and though you may fight it, whatever is meant to be, will surely work itself out. (Submit your own Falling in Love on Friday blog hereand read past submissions here.)

The Best Decision I’ve Ever Made
The first time he told me he loved me, I hyperventilated. That doesn’t sound romantic, but oddly enough, it ended up that way. We were only three weeks into our official, exclusive “boyfriend/girlfriend” status and it had only been one month and three days since our first date. Nobody falls that fast without suffering from the impact, and I wasn’t looking to become a casualty.

But then again, I was never “looking” for the things I ended up finding. He was a prime example of that.

The night of our first date, I almost cancelled on him. Even though I had accepted his invitation just the night before, by the morning I was already plotting excuses not to show — I don’t feel well. Something else came up. My mother made a surprise visit. He didn’t need to know that my mother only lived 20 minutes away and that I saw her every Sunday when I drove over to do my laundry.

I caved in and went anyway, though I showed up to our date fifteen minutes late. Not to be fashionable – I wasn’t that strategic when it came to dating. My only plan for the evening included being gone by 9:30 at the latest. An hour and a half and we would go our separate ways.

But I was wrong, as I almost always am when it comes to love. We were there until after 11 o’clock that night, a three hour first date. He kept offering to let me go if I had somewhere to be and I kept turning him down. It was the first time in a long time that I had said no to leaving instead of staying.

We happened quickly after that. He kept asking me on dates and I kept saying yes. He kept making promises and I kept being pleasantly surprised when he didn’t break them. We relearned a lot of things in those first few weeks. Like how nice it was to look forward to seeing someone. Like how it feels to have your heart in your stomach every time you get ready for a date. Like how to trust again.

I fell like I’d never fallen before – intensely but comfortably. We may not have been ready, but bravery took over and endorphins kicked in — we were goners before we’d even noticed, and no amount of force could have stopped the power of takeover. I lost count of how many times we told each other,

“I’m scared of how much I like you already,” because nothing that good could possibly be true. And then the “L” word dropped, like one of those nuclear bombs that leaves widespread damage years after the fact.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Oh no. Not ready. Mind racing. Words failing. Panic building. Just…breathe. Breathe. In for five, out for five. In…and out.

Then came The Speech.

The one about what love means to me and what my last one did to me. About how I don’t take it lightly and it shouldn’t be said lightly because when you say it, you should mean it. About how he couldn’t possibly know me well enough to love me – good me, bad me, angry me, stubborn me. He hadn’t even met all of me yet.

It was one of those times where you try to talk someone out of loving you before they can do it themselves. He was the first man I’d fallen for in ages. When something like that happens, self preservation kicks in and you realize that if it’s going to end, you’d really rather it be your idea.

And yet, less than twelve hours after the speech had been spoken, it went from “I’m falling in love with you” to “I love you.” I gave him points for boldness and he gave me a look of hope and longing and meaning, as if he saw me in a way that no one else could. He was literally in a cold sweat by the time he got the words out, but he got them out. Despite all of my warnings, he said it.

But I didn’t hyperventilate that time. Instead, I said it back.

And we’ve said every day since.

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Oh Love, Sweet Self-Love…

Hey there lady, 

You’ve had quite the year, haven’t you darling? It’s been full of changes and challenges, incredible new beginnings and the start of  madly, profoundly falling in love with yourself. It certainly hasn’t been easy — in fact, it’s been a lot of work. You had to learn to let go of the glimmering hopes of the past so you could find all the lovely opportunities (and people) waiting for you in the days you’ve yet to see. You had to have faith in that brilliant and incredibly powerful voice inside of you that aches for better. The knows there’s more out there. That’s brave, yet very soft. That feels things it only tries to explain in far too many words. It’s your heart that makes you so thoughtful, so loving, so sentimental and it’s that same heart that will help you find all that you’ve ever wanted. For the first time, maybe ever, you don’t have a five-year plan. You don’t have a complete schedule for what’s next or what will be. Instead, you’re learning to love this little life you’ve built this in big city. You’re savoring your friendships, your adorable puppy, your morning runs and the coffee that follows, the job that continues to fulfill you, and the people and the places, that make your life so beautiful. And like a star, you really are. Never change that. Don’t ever lose it. It’s what sets you apart, it’s what makes you bold and what makes you adventurous. It’s what titillates your curiosity each and every day. It’s what makes you so fierce that people notice it once they’ve known you for just five minutes. Your nature makes people want to be better. You have more beauty than what you see and you’re spirit inspires those around you. Keep believing. Dream bigger. Dare yourself more. Say yes. Buy yourself some flowers. Buy that expensive pair of shoes that is really out of your budget — and march those streets with intention. Catch a jetplane. Be so excited that you still have your single status and complete independence… for now. Remember that you’re truly special, incredibly unique and yes, oh yes — that the best is still yet to come. I love you, Happy Valentine’s Day! -Linds 

I love the way you have big dreams and are not afraid to work hard to make them come true. You are the eternal optimist and always put a smile on everyone’s faces. You are selfless and kind. You are always there for a hug. You have a beautiful family that is always happy, even when the laundry isn’t done and there are dishes in the sink. Your children love you; you can see it in their eyes. You a strong woman, and you’ve built a family with a wonderful man because you want to, not because you need to. You have faith that one day everything will work out, and you are determined to enjoy the journey with all its ups and downs until it does. You take each day as it comes and never stop dreaming of what the future will bring, even if sometimes you get overly hopeful about your make-believe plans. I understand. This Valentine’s Day you will snuggle with your children and tell them how much they mean to you, how much you love them. You will curl up with your husband because you want his presence near you, but you will be perfectly fine alone when he wants to go play his video game before bed. :) You will love because you want to, not because it’s an obligation to make you feel better about yourself. You are strong, you are loved, and you love. Happy Valentine’s Day, Me. – Tiffany, Atlanta, GA

Happy Valentine’s darling. Look around you and take in all that you have accomplished. Look at the incredible, inspiring people in your life that you are lucky enough to call boyfriend, friend, and family. It hasn’t been an easy few years, but all the hard work was way more than worth it. Live in love today – with yourself first and then with the love of your life (don’t forget to put those roses in water right away!) – Jenn, New York, NY

Firstly I love you & how you always convince yourself that you are one handsome lady that has the world at her feet, being a hot poet that indulge herself with everything good. The reason you are here single and enjoying yourself is your independence your bravery to be on your own and to achieve your goals…You’re a city girl living a life with a deep philosophy of the inner peace you have within. I admire the courage, with your beautiful smile that always give your eyes that much needed glow….You’re beauty transcends everything about you, you are alluring. No matter how many women have broken your heart and walked out your life, you still pick yourself and move forward with life..That is something they can never take from you that you would still greet them if you should see them walking down the road or in a mall. You have finally decided that hindering on past hurts doesn’t need to feature in your life. The universe will give you something better and this V-Day embrace your growth and your journey..This is about me, Myself & I and nothing and no-one else..I love you, you sexythang… -Chim, Capetown, South Africa

You are incredible. I love that you smile to much, laugh way to loud, trip all of the time, have a coffee addiction, and live life to the fullest while trying not to look back. Take time to be proud of yourself. Be proud of who you have become. You are worth someones affection, time, and love. Although you have always been single, you have discovered how to love yourself. Take pride in that. Not many people can say that they have lived in other countries in their twenties. Or have an amazing group of friends who would do anything for you. Or truly have a passion for what they majored in. Enjoy being single while it lasts. Stop trying to find love and let it find you. You have so much to give to the world. Don’t hold back for a second. -Ashley, Canberra, Australia

Happy Love Day! I know that 2013 has not lived up to your expectations: you put your trust in the wrong person and it backfired. It is perfectly understandable to be upset, sad, angry, confused, or whatever emotion you are currently feeling (I know how much they fluctuate), BUT stop letting that negative emotion get in the way of creating new relationships and new opportunities. Your destiny is never tied to anyone that left and the rest of your life is a blank piece of paper just waiting for you to decorate it. This isn’t the last time you will ever feel sad, and this isn’t the last time you will cry. But when those feelings rise to the surface, take a deep breath and realize what you have to be thankful for. February 14th is not a day to sit around and feel sorry for yourself. But instead, it is a day to celebrate love. Yes, I said celebrate love. Love is not contained to romantic feelings. Tell your family how much you love them. Make sure they know that you appreciate EVERY little thing they have ever done for you and that your love for them is limitless. Tell your friends how much you love them. Thank them for the countless hours they have spent nursing your broken heart and listening to you rationalize what happened over and over and over and over again. And last, but certainly not least, LOVE YOURSELF. You are a magnificent creature who is worthy of bona fide love and nothing will ever change that. Go buy yourself something pretty and some fine wine and celebrate love. – Chelsea, Charlotte, NC

I am so happy you’re a solo diva this Valentine’s Day. Why? Because you won’t have to pretend to like any jewelry you hate, you don’t have to look gorgeous whilst eating chocolates – in fact, feel free to binge (in a good, liberating way). I can’t wait for you to throw on some fierce heels for a carefree night on the town, no strings attached! Expect flowers and chocolates from me to me. Love, Me -Anonymous 

Stop beating yourself up for not being “right” for people. They probably aren’t “right” for you either. Even if you vacationed at the all same places growing up and love the same food. It doesn’t mean forever. It’s just a series of lovely coincidences. Don’t turn into a hard person or frigid. Look for the love, don’t change to make it happen. You’re a beautiful, caring, fun girl. Someone is bound to come along and appreciate these things and put the effort in. You deserve more than the bare minimum. Don’t go for Mr. Boring, he’s been around long enough. Let go. Remember, the definition of ‘settle’ is to move downward; sink or descend. You know you always kick way more ass when you’re single anyway ;) Your biggest fan, Danielle PS- have I mentioned how good you look naked these days? I couldn’t be more proud of you for sticking to your workouts and better eating habits <3 – Danielle, Greensboro, NC

I am happy to spend Vday with my girlfriends, because I always have more fun with the girls over dates. I love my independence, freedom, and living by my self. I like being with a man, but am happy without one. – Anonymous 

Dear Renee, You don’t know much about love, admittedly. But if there is one person you have always loved, it’s yourself. You’ve always been proud of yourself, always been able to see the bright side of your flaws. You’ve always been there for yourself, always supported yourself, always believed in yourself. You have never had a problem being who you are. You have never had a problem loving yourself. You have always been fearless and fabulous and you’ve always known it. You’ve spent that last 20 Valentine’s Days on your own, and you’ve always enjoyed them without even a hint of cynicism — writing a love letter to yourself is practically second-nature at this point. But this year has thrown you for a loop. You love your family, your friends, and yourself so naturally. But this year, you’ve had to learn to love someone else too. You have been with a wonderful man for almost a year, longer than you’ve ever been with anyone. But you are a neophyte in the first degree — a definite “beginner” when it comes to being in a relationship, and it has been quite the learning experience. It continues to be a learning experience — learning how to give yourself to someone without losing yourself completely. Learning how to be less selfish and to compromise instead. You thought it would all come so naturally but you’ve had to make some changes. You’ve had to let go of that control you love. You’ve had to give in to those feelings that scare you. In learning how to be there for someone else, you’ve actually grown up a little. And it’s a good thing because this wonderful man does love you — no matter what. Throughout all of your wild independence and criticisms and learning curves, he has been there, patiently waiting, always willing to work with you. You love yourself, but you know you can be a handful. He knows it too, and he’ll still be in your apartment tonight waiting to give you a kiss when you walk through the door. So here’s to a new kind of love — the romantic kind that you never looked for but miraculously ended up with. Here’s to the love you never thought would be as important as the love you have for yourself. Here’s to realizing that you can love someone else the way you love yourself — unconditionally and repeatedly, no matter what, over and over again. Happy Valentine’s Day. Go celebrate ;) – Renee, Asheville, NC

I like how organized you are, and how you are such a great friend. You DO NOT need a man to make you happy. You are building a fantastic life for yourself, your career is progressing in the way you want it to, and if a man came into the situation he would fuck that up right now. I am a fabulous single woman because I do not need a man to validate me. I am a strong and independent woman. I am happy to be single this Valentine’s Day, I would not like to feel like a caged bird. – Anonymous 

Although I’m happily married now, I had plenty of single-mom years to learn that being on my own was just fine, and often really great. There’s simply no way to be happy with a man without being happy with yourself, first, and through a lot of trial and error I kept learning and re-learning this. I write this more for Rivkah now, our sweet daughter, because whether she flies solo temporarily or forever, she needs to know that love starts with herself, first. So, dear me, I hope you feel supported enough to feel love from the outside world but strong enough to share as much love as you possibly can with the rest of the world. Sharing love, as it turns out, is what brings it back… and that feels pretty great. – Bryce, New York, NY

I may be a guy, but am very much appreciative of the wonderful beings women are. I love most about my liberal attitudes, being accepting and tolerant towards others. Well I’m single now, I believe in giving love time. It’ll pop up in the most unexpected circumstance and till then, I should always keep my heart open and strong. I am happy to fly solo this valentine’s because eventually when I find my love, it doesn’t have to be on this particular day, or Christmas, or any other day. Because everyday, being with my valentine would simply be special =) – Jason, Singapore

You are a crazy ball of nerves and curls and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re afraid of aquariums, tunnels, and escalators but not of hiking glaciers or navigating through new countries with only a post it note with an address and a handful of useful phrases in your pocket. You cannot figure out a tip without a calculator or dance a waltz, but you can play punk songs on the ukulele and bluegrass on the guitar. You are a 5 foot 10 sponge, constantly learning and soaking up stories and memories. You once taught someone how to fence at a tiny, narrow, southern diner. You can recite poetry, name constellations in the freckles on your cheeks, and say “cheers” in five different languages. You can go for miles and miles. You, my love, are disgustingly, hopelessly optimistic at all times and can handle emergencies like a champ. You are taking risks and I’m so proud of everything you are and have become. You’ve come along way, and I love you. – Allison, Raleigh, NC

You are fierce and brave. You love your husband with abandon, and that is an admirable quality. Your body is an amazing temple that is currently housing a little miracle that you’ll fall even more in love with throughout the rest of your life. You respect yourself and are finally in a place where your are comfortable with the body you’re in. You’re doing good and will continue to do so. When you are counting your blessings, don’t forget to include your wonderful self. I’m so blessed to be in your skin. -Fatima, Asheville, NC

Look at you, you starry-eyed princess. I don’t mean to give you more of an ego than you already have, but you were SO amazing and beautiful this past year. It is so incredible to read back on your love letters to yourself for the past two years–in 2011, you were so fierce and wild, ready to love yourself more than anything in the world. In 2012, you were so much wiser & calm–you knew love was on the horizon, & who knew that a week after contributing a Valentine to yourself for your beloved friend’s blog, you would meet the man of your dreams. This year has been beautiful and amazing in a way that words can’t express–but this isn’t luck. With your positive energy, joy, & hope, you made all this happen. Your heart and your spirit never fail to impress, & I’m so glad that after all the tears, the analyzing, & the let downs, you found someone that was worth the wait. Although your Valentine is your missing puzzle piece, & you’ll spend this evening preparing lobster together & cuddling to your favorite Valentine’s Day episodes of “30 Rock” & “Parks and Recreation”, and it probably will be perfect and wonderful (just like the two of you), but please don’t forget your sweetest Valentine–yourself. The love in your life from your partner, your family, & your friends exists because you love each of them madly & deeply–never stop. You love others because you love yourself. And that, my glittery princess darling, is something to write a love letter about. Now go get some from that sexy man of yours. XOXO. – Michelle, Asheville, NC

I am so freaking proud of you…maybe more than I have ever been. Not only did you make it through the crazy wedding drama, your mother-in-law’s death, your husband wanting you to quit your job and move so he can go to school and LORD only knows what else, you made it through on top. AND despite being married, you still are you, you still go out with your girlfriends, you still have me time and you have yet to succumb to being one of THOSE wives (you know what I’m talking about). Plus so far in 2013, you lost 12lbs and finished writing a 77,000 word novel. I think you deserve a high five. But more importantly, last year you’ve learned to love selflessly, but you’ve also learned how to make yourself a priority too. So take a deep breath and feel the love. It’s still crazy and probably always will, but rest assured that for the first time ever, you’ve finally realized who you are and you’re not hating it. -Nikki, Boone, NC

So this year, I’m proud — no, excited — to say I am the sole owner of my heart… and as such, I feel the need to express it in the silliest, cutest way imaginable. And if that means I get a sparkly card… then dammit, it’s gonna be the BEST sparkly card EVER!! (Read the rest of Leslie’s New York, NY love letter to herself here.)

Well hello you ambitious, determined young lady! Yet another year has flown by but this Valentine’s Day is so much different than last. You are now MARRIED to your best friend, living in Los Angeles (planning on moving to NYC), and above all…you have finally grown to love yourself. People have told you for years that you need to love yourself if you ever dream of being happy and I never knew what they were talking about until this year. I can finally embrace my quirky habits and see myself through my husband’s eyes. I am beautiful, intelligent, and, depending on the day, I can be funny. You have so much going for you! I couldn’t be more proud of your determination to succeed in a male-dominated profession and your willingness to always take on more than any one person should. Keep up your spirits this year and always remember, you are your own person, don’t let anyone tell you any different! – Alyssa, Los Angeles, CA

It’s funny, last year my Valentine opened with how appreciative I was of your faith in God’s plan, and this year I want to start the same way–even though so many things are vastly different. The past year has brought you so many changes that you chose, and some you didn’t. But all of them have made you an even more fiery and brave woman than you were on the last 14th of February. You’ve embraced your independence and you’ve learned to love the things about yourself that you can’t ignore when it’s quiet–and there’s no one else to distract from your flaws. You’ve learned the value of solitude. And you’ve come to appreciate the beauty of being on your own, and being happy, whole and peaceful. You’ve turned to God when you were lonely. And you’ve trusted God when you were anxious. The last nine months of singledom could have been terrifying, but instead you grew in your faith and spirituality and you’ve entered 2013 with the clearest picture of what you want and need than you have ever had before. You are doing things instead of just talking about them; and for once, pretty girl, you’re following through! But of all the growing pains and changes you’ve endured and conquered in the past year–perhaps the best? The most beautiful? Is that you’ve healed a heart to the point of brand new. And you’ve remembered that love is magical. And you’ve believed that love can come again. You’ve learned that you’re not broken. And you’ve found that your heart is very capable. This Valentine’s Day, it could be so easy to look at what hasn’t come yet. But instead celebrate that this Valentine’s Day can be one of the very most true to date. Love will come. And until then, love the fact that, right now? Right here? These friends? This family? This is all very, abundantly enough. – Ashley, Winston-Salem, NC

I love how you chew up toys and pull towels off hooks while mommy is at work. I love how everything that can get stuck to your fluffy white fur, does. I love how cuddle everyone, stranger, friend or neither. I love how you try to pull mommy into the streets during walk-time. I love how socks are much better than most treats and how stealing them from mommy — or anyone — is really funny. I love your little bark that alerts mommy of every sound. I love your sweet, beautiful big brown eyes and the way they steal the heart of everyone you meet. I love how your belly is perfect for scratching. I love how much joy you bring to your mommy’s life, always. I woof you very much! Happy Chew-Up Flowers Day! – Lucy Liberty, New York, NYC

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